My think-tank.

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I am Restless, therefore I write.

Most of us are familiar with this, in more ways than one. I, in fact, am experiencing this as I write.

I stare at my hands to make them move, type something. As I stare at my hands, I notice the texture and the crevices that my hands showcase. I am not really that old, (really, I’m in my early 20s) , what I mean is that I am beginning to notice that my hands are aging.

The tiny scars I got as a kid and early teens are still there, faint, but still there. They are just hands though right? Just hands.

You can now see the immediate figurative meaning behind this all. That is not my point, and to be frank I don’t think I have one (do I ever?).